Khadijah turns to Veda. “I’m going to a small room to talk to the Council. Walk to Olive and get us a table. I’ll meet you there.” The verbal skirmish concludes with Khadijah excusing herself.
“What was that all about?” Veda asks the only person left to give answers.
“Bad blood” is all Hiram says.
Veda sidesteps him and leaves out the side door, no goodbye needed. The city’s lights dim the stars, clouds partially conceal the moon, but the spring air is crisp and clean. She hasn’t made it far when she remembers to ask Everly to make her another tin of salve for her scars. Sighing, Veda turns on her heels just to see the door closing behind Hiram, who stops, awaiting her next move. It should be to head back inside, but there’s a question smoldering that won’t extinguish. “How do you know Clinton?”
“I don’t,” he says, irritated.
Veda isn’t buying it. “He seems to know you.”
“If he did, he’d know I hate all that cryptic Seer speak.”
An amused huff slips past her lips. “Same.”
They’re under a streetlamp, light casting shadows in all directions. Hiram slides his hands into the pockets of his navy pants. He seems more open like this—vulnerable, even.
His expression is curious as it falls on her once more. “Why wereyouthere?”
“Apparently to see you be raked over the coals.”
He ignores her sarcasm. “Are you a Seer?”
“No, but they trust me.”
“Why?” Hiram’s question is low, private. He doesn’t move when Veda takes a step back, ready to go to Olive for that much-needed drink. “Never mind. You won’t tell me.”
The truth is complicated. She doesn’t owe him an explanation.
There’s a gleam in his blue eyes, shadowed by a fleeting heaviness, a weight that sleep can’t cure. “My ex was the Botanist’s latest victim.”
The fire inside her cools to a simmer.Antaris’s mother?“The London case?”
Hiram nods. “Let me guess, Gabriel told you.”
“Yeah.” Quietly, Veda wrestles with two truths: sorrow for Antaris, and disbelief that someone like Hiram once dated a Seer.
“I stumbled onto yours while looking for more information on hers.” Hiram moves closer, approaching like she’s a bird he’s trying not to frighten, not within reach but enough to eclipse the glow from the streetlamp. He stops when Veda steps back, contempt in his eyes. “You think I’m a killer, too?”
She stares at him blankly. “I’m not ruling anything out.”
“You don’t knowshitabout me.”
“I’m not trying to,” Veda snaps. “But Peter won’t shut up about you. And my judgment is the result of your actions—like accosting me with questions about the worst night of my life. You have other priorities to focus on instead of me.”
“My priorities are none of your business.”
Unconsciously, Veda takes a step toward him, looking him up and down. His eyes follow her every move. “Peter’s belief in you clashes with everything I’ve seen. I have my opinions, and you’ve done nothing to change them.”
“My questions were abrupt, I apologize for that. As for anything you’ve seen tonight, I’m not in the business of kissing the ass of every person I meet simply because of my surname. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“If you believe that, you’re a damn fool.” Veda tilts her head, eyes narrowed. “I’m not saying I agree with everything that was said, but you can’t ignore the reasons no one wants you as their ally, whether you asked for it or not.”
“I didn’t,” Hiram retorts firmly.
“You can’t pretend their concerns don’t exist. The past happened, and no, you weren’t there, but you benefit from it now. The damagelingers. They can’t be forced to move on, nor do you get to decide that you’re forgiven—it’s up to them. Your family—”
“I amnotmy family.” There are signs of struggle where there was once arrogance. “I don’t even know why Clinton invited me. Whatever he’s Seen, I don’t care, nor do I want any part of it. I just want to raise my kid in peace. It’s what he deserves after all the shit he’s been through.”
